


Fizz the Season

by TheDragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Getting Together, M/M, Reincarnation, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragon/pseuds/TheDragon
Summary: "You're not seriously thinking of buying that?"Merlin whirls around to look at the man who spoke. Tall, fit, blond hair, blue eyes. Immaculately pressed suit, leather shoes, an expensive-looking gold watch on his wrist.And a smirk on his face that marks him as an absoluteprat.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 313
Collections: WinterKnights 2020 - a Merlin Winter/Holiday Fest





	Fizz the Season

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Merlin is buying some wine or champagne to bring to a New Year's party, and Arthur is another customer judging what he chooses to buy

"You're not seriously thinking of buying that?"

Merlin whirls around to look at the man who spoke. Tall, fit, blond hair, blue eyes. Immaculately pressed suit, leather shoes, an expensive-looking gold watch on his wrist.

And a smirk on his face that marks him as an absolute _prat_.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Merlin says, putting the wine back on the shelf—not because this _stranger_ suggested it's bad, but because, truth be told, it doesn't actually look like something anyone would want to drink. Not with all the... floaty bits, all swirling about inside. The fit stranger has nothing at _all_ to do with Merlin's decision, no sir.

Deciding to ignore the man—and not really succeeding, but he can _pretend_ , all right?—Merlin continues browsing. Spread before him is a large selection of wine and champagne, and he knows absolutely nothing about either. He _told_ Gwen it was a bad idea to send him shopping for alcohol, but she was so adamant he would do just fine that Merlin relented.

And look where that got him—he’s standing in the middle of the aisle, having his choices judged by a handsome, albeit annoying stranger.

What to do, what to do... The first and most obvious thing is to decide between wine and champagne. Personally, he’d prefer the wine, but this _is_ for a New Year's party, and, well, champagne is supposed to be some sort of New Year's staple, isn't it?

He reaches for a different bottle—this one wider at the base and with a far more glittery label—only to startle when someone clears their throat.

"What?" he snaps at the unfairly attractive stranger, who's taken to leaning over his shoulder and looking at the new bottle. _Gods_ , the man smells good, and he looks even better close up. Still, Merlin isn’t going to let this stranger bully him just because he has a pretty face. "I suppose this one is too cheap for your delicate taste buds."

"Don't be stupid, good alcohol doesn't always have to be expensive," the man says, taking the bottle out of his hand and placing it back on the shelf. "But that one is _exceedingly_ bitter, and judging by the contents of your trolley, you have somewhat of a sweet tooth."

Merlin flushes, eyes darting to look at the piles of sweets and biscuits. He's just about to explain to the man that this isn't all for him—and gods, why is he even going to bother with explaining himself to a complete _stranger_ —when the man makes a soft 'Aha!' sound and presents Merlin with a new bottle that, miraculously, is still within Merlin's price range.

"Try this one?" he says, handing it over. Merlin is moving to take the bottle from him before he even realises what he's doing. Their fingers brush; Merlin ducks his head to hide the blush that's risen to his cheeks. Judging by the smirk that spreads across the man's face, it's a wasted effort.

"Thanks," Merlin says, suddenly oddly subdued. He lets his gaze linger on the man's mouth before raising it to meet his eyes. This doesn't go unnoticed either, but to Merlin's surprise, he's not the only one who's eyes fixed themselves on something they weren't supposed to.

"I'm Arthur," the man— _Arthur_ —says, thrusting one hand out in front of him. After a moment of hesitation, Merlin takes it. Arthur's skin is warm where it touches his own; Merlin has to fight to suppress his shiver.

"Merlin," he introduces himself, praying that his hands aren't as sweaty as they feel. He tries to inconspicuously wipe the other one off on his trousers.

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur repeats, still, _still_ smirking. He fixes his gaze on Merlin's lips again, then lets it travel down the length of Merlin's body and back up, not even hiding the fact that he's checking him out. Merlin feels as though Arthur's undressing him with his eyes, and, to his surprise, he finds that he doesn't mind. _More_ than doesn't mind, actually. He wants that gaze to stay on him and _only_ him. No one has ever looked at him this way before, in such a maddening, predatory way, so obviously full of want. It's _intoxicating_.

"And if I were to suggest we go back to mine and try out some of this champagne..." Arthur continues, letting the end of the sentence trail off, waiting for Merlin to get his meaning.

"Yes," Merlin immediately says, before his single brain cell can remind him how bad an idea this is. This is a _stranger_ he met at the _store,_ for fuck's sake. They've barely exchanged five sentences! What is he even _thinking_?!

He isn't. His slowly filling cock is doing his thinking for him.

"Good," Arthur says with a grin. "Are you almost done with your shopping, then?"

Merlin looks at his trolley. He's only just gotten started, really. All he has so far are things he needs for the party and nothing he can actually eat over the next few days, but if he stalls, Arthur might change his mind and Merlin might never see him again—which he _absolutely_ doesn't want. Besides, he can always pop out to the shop again tomorrow. It's not like it’s too far out of his way.

He's not going to let an opportunity like this go by. Never in his life did he think he would manage to pull at a _store_ —he never _wanted_ to, because that's not what you _do_ in stores, but now that he somehow, miraculously, _has_...

"Just about," Merlin replies, nodding. He doesn't want to seem too eager, but if anything, Arthur looks in no better a state than he. "I'm on my way to the register."

"I'll accompany you," Arthur says. With the hand not holding his own shopping basket, he touches Merlin's elbow and directs him down the aisle. Merlin is so focused on it he almost leaves his trolley behind.

Arthur is so close that Merlin can smell his cologne, see each tiny hair of the stubble that decorates his cheeks and jaw and neck. He wants to reach out and touch it, but they're still in public, and if he did now, he wouldn't be able to help himself from going further. It seems like the hardest thing he's ever had to do, keeping his hands to himself.

Gods, he can just imagine how that stubble is going to feel against his lips, all rough and scratchy. The beard burn he's going to have all over his face, his _thighs_ , if he can convince Arthur to suck him off; maybe even his _arse_.

"You have a car?" he asks, in a valiant attempt to get his mind out of the gutter. His trousers have gotten uncomfortably tight all of a sudden, and the worst part is, he can't do anything about it until they get to Arthur's. Merlin doesn't know what he's going to do if it turns out his place is at the other end of the city. Die of sexual frustration, probably.

Arthur seems like the type to live in one of those rich, luxurious neighbourhoods. The clothes, the accent, the overall image Arthur presents—it would fit perfectly.

When Arthur's hand slips from Merlin's elbow to rest on the small of his back, he shivers, imagining being taken to a loft and pushed up against windows that oversee the entire city. No one would be able to see him that high up, but _he_ would be able to see _everything_ , every _one_ , and oh, gods, he can feel his blood rushing south at the mere _thought_.

Disappointingly, it turns out that Arthur lives in a completely ordinary neighbourhood. The very one they’re in, as a matter of fact. Merlin spares but a moment to mourn fantasies that would not come to pass before pressing Arthur up against the closed front door and kissing him. After that, it's a rush to get out of their jackets and shoes and the rest of their clothes. They leave behind a trail of them as Arthur tugs Merlin along in the direction of the bedroom.

"I'm clean," Arthur suddenly says, coming to a sudden abrupt stop. He doesn't turn around to look Merlin in the eye, but the back of his neck has gone scarlet.

It's easy to read him, to find out when he wants Merlin to say to that. And it's such, _such_ a bad idea, because he's only known Arthur for all of five minutes—how can he trust a single word he says? Believe _anything_ that comes out of his mouth?

And yet there's something about Arthur that makes Merlin want to put every ounce of his faith in him.

"Me too," he says, squeezing Arthur's hand and watching as his shoulders slump in relief.

The moment the bedroom door slams shut behind them, Arthur is pushing him onto the bed. Merlin bounces when he hits the mattress, huffing from the surprise, but he doesn't get the chance to call Arthur a prat because said prat positions himself in between Merlin's spread legs and starts mouthing at his cock.

"Fuck!" Merlin shouts, tangling his fingers in Arthur's hair. Not tugging, just using his hold to ground himself. He moans when Arthur takes in more of his cock, his mouth wet and warm. It's a sight Merlin is never going to forget, Arthur looking up at him through his eyelashes, mouth stuffed full, one of his hands holding down Merlin's hips and the other fondling his balls.

He looks gorgeous like this. Of course, he looked gorgeous before as well, but the image he makes crouched between Merlin's legs is on a whole other level.

"A— Arthur," Merlin moans again. His voice is already raspy and they've barely even started. What's it going to be like later, once they've fucked properly?

Hopefully, after _Arthur_ has fucked _him_ properly.

When Arthur moves his head back up so that only the tip of Merlin's cock is in his mouth and sucks, Merlin can't hold back anymore. He thrusts his hips up, chasing that wonderful, _wonderful_ sensation, only to whine, deep in his throat, when Arthur's tight grip on him doesn't allow for it.

"Please," he say, throwing one arm over his eyes, tightening his grip on Arthur's hair with the other. "Pleaseplease _please_."

Arthur listens to him, and starts moving his mouth up and down Merlin's cock again, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, licking at the slit every time he comes up for air. His mouth is cherry red, lips slick with spit and Merlin's precome. Arthur reaches behind Merlin's balls and puts the tip of his index finger inside Merlin's arse, and—

—that's it, he's done. Merlin's orgasm hits him like a brick wall. He tries halfheartedly to warn Arthur and push him away, but Arthur refuses to go, and Merlin is left to watch helplessly as he swallows everything down. Arthur doesn't manage it all; there’s a smidgeon of white on his bottom lip. Before he realises what he's doing, Merlin reaches forward and drags the pad of his thumb across it, wiping it away.

Arthur sucks the finger into his mouth, pressing his tongue against it. Then, maintaining eye contact, he hollows out his cheeks and sucks, just like he did to Merlin's cock not a minute ago.

"You'll be the death of me," Merlin whimpers, throwing his head back. He takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting up and caging Arthur in between his thighs. He reaches out, letting his hand hover over the tip of Arthur's own erection, and asks, "Can I?"

Arthur nods eagerly, but then rethinks his decision and shakes his head instead.

"If you touch me right now, I'll come," he explains, catching Merlin's hand in his own and intertwining their fingers. "And I want to be inside you when that happens."

If Merlin could come again, he would have. Hearing Arthur say those words, having him tell Merlin how aroused he is by what they're doing... it's _intoxicating_. Gods, what a pity that this probably won’t be anything more than a one night stand.

"Go on, then," he says, waving his hand around the room. "Fetch the lube."

"I'm not your manservant, Merlin," Arthur admonishes, but he rises from the bed anyway. It's not like he has much of a choice, really—he’s the only one who knows where it is. Merlin doesn’t know the first thing about Arthur’s flat.

Except the bedroom. He's become very well-acquainted with the bedroom.

Arthur opens the nightstand drawer and pulls out a tube of lube, clicking it open. He's back between Merlin's thighs before Merlin even realises he's moved, dribbling lube over his own fingers, using them to direct it to Merlin's hole.

It's unexpectedly cool in comparison to his heated skin, and Merlin hisses at the sensation. Gods, it's been a while since he's had anyone in his bed—since _he's_ been in anyone's bed, and he hasn't had much time to himself, either. He can barely remember the last time he had something up his arse, and oh gods, now Arthur is pushing a finger up inside him, spreading the lube, withdrawing, coming back in with two and then—

And then he curls them, pressing up against that one place inside Merlin that has him seeing stars. He pushes back on Arthur's fingers, chasing the sensation. His cock is hardening again, already ready for another round. If Merlin can just get some more pressure on that too-good spot, maybe some friction, he could—

Arthur withdraws his fingers, leaving Merlin feeling unbearably empty. Before he can reach down to take his pleasure into his own hands, Arthur is there, putting a pillow underneath Merlin's hips, and then pressing the tip of his cock against Merlin's hole.

Merlin curses when the head pushes against the tight ring of muscles at his entrance. For a second, it feels like Arthur's cock is too big, like it isn't going to fit, but then Merlin spreads his legs wider and pushes back, and finally, _finally_ the tip of Arthur's cock slips inside.

Arthur looks just as wrecked as Merlin feels, his hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks and lips a bright red. He gives Merlin a moment to get used to the sensation of having something inside him, before angling his hips and resuming pushing forward. With the head in, the rest of his cock fits inside easily, leaving Merlin feeling like he’s stuffed to the brim, almost uncomfortably full. Like he's going to fly apart the second Arthur starts moving.

Arthur, for his part, looks like he's trying very hard not to do just that. Keeping his hips in place the best he can, he leans forward until he's hovering above Merlin, resting his weight on his forearms.

And then, he mashes their lips together with about as much finesse as Merlin did at the start of their evening. Merlin responds to it immediately, opening his mouth and letting Arthur plunder it, running his own tongue along Arthur's bottom lip. He barely even notices when Arthur moves his hips back, slowly withdrawing from his arse.

He _definitely_ notices when Arthur thrusts in again, his cock perfectly angled to graze against Merlin's prostate. Arthur kisses the moan right off his lips, and Merlin winds his arms around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer as he continues moving inside him. His hard cock rubs against both of their bellies, smearing precome all over. The friction is good, but it's not enough. Merlin wants so, _so_ badly to wrap his own hand around it and stroke it, but he can't bear to remove them from around Arthur.

When Merlin's hands dip lower, digging into Arthur's arse, he takes it as permission to move faster. Each thrust is rougher than the last, shoving Merlin up to the headboard of the bed. Only the pillows in front of it are stopping him from banging his head against it.

And yet, he can't admonish Arthur for this, not when it feels so good, not when each thrust sends shivers of pure, unadulterated pleasure racing up his spine. Lifting his legs so that his feet are planted firmly on the bed, Merlin pushes back against him, making each thrust hit that much harder, that much _better_.

Already, the pleasure is beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. As Arthur continues thrusting up inside him, sucking at that one particular spot on Merlin's neck that makes him _ache_ , Merlin's cock jerks, once, twice, and then he's coming harder than he ever has before, enveloped in Arthur's arms.

The sensation of his hole clenching sends Arthur over the edge, and he empties himself, hot and sticky, inside Merlin. He takes a moment to catch a breath before withdrawing, caressing Merlin's cheekbone with his thumb as he does.

A mix of lube and come leaks from Merlin's fucked-open arse, but he's too tired and boneless to feel embarrassed. Arthur kisses him again, this time on the corner of his lips, and retreats before Merlin can direct that mouth to where he really wants it. The swaying of his hips as he leaves the room is a sight Merlin can’t tear his eyes away from.

"Arthur?" he calls, once he's finally got his vocal cords under control.

"I'll be right there," Arthur calls from the other room. When he reappears, it's with a wet towel in hand. Merlin lies still as Arthur wipes them both off, making sure they're as clean as they're going to get.

"I'll. Give me a moment," Merlin whispers, trying to make sense of the jumbled ball of yarn that is his thoughts. "I'll get out of your hair soon; I just need a second to catch my breath."

"Don't be an idiot, Merlin," Arthur says, crashing down to the bed and lying down beside him. He turns his head to look Merlin in the eyes. "You're more than welcome to stay the night."

"But..." Merlin flounders. "But the groceries!"

"They can keep," Arthur declared, raising his eyebrows almost as if he's daring Merlin to contradict him. When Merlin's only response is to huff an annoyed breath, Arthur chuckles. He turns them both over onto their sides and wraps an arm around Merlin, holding him close. Merlin leans back into his warmth, tangling their legs together. He lets his hand rest atop Arthur's own, where it's spread out over his beating heart.

"Prat," Merlin mutters under his breath, but he's too tired to get up. Besides, it's so nice and warm here in Arthur's flat, despite it being the middle of winter. What he wouldn't give to have such a good heating system.

It only gets better when Arthur somehow manages to manoeuvre his arm from between them and reach for the duvet that fell to the floor in the middle of their... well, Merlin would hesitate to call it lovemaking. In the middle of sex, probably around the time Arthur made it his life's mission to suck Merlin's brains out through his cock.

Doubtless to say, he succeeded.

"You're thinking too much," Arthur murmurs behind him. His voice is no less hoarse than Merlin's, and he sounds as though he's on the verge of sleep. Merlin smiles when Arthur's arm around him tightens, pulling them closer together. It's nice. Merlin has never had much occasion to cuddle. Obviously, it isn't something you do with your typical one night stand, and the one boyfriend he had never liked it. Something about it being too touchy-feely.

In hindsight, perhaps he was never the best person for Merlin.

"Sorry," Merlin whispers, smiling despite himself. He pushes back into Arthur's embrace. Come morning, they will likely both have gravitated to either side of the bed, but he plans to treasure the feeling of having Arthur's arms around him for as long as it lasts.

Arthur hums, his breath warm against the nape of Merlin's neck. All this... all this domesticity, this odd sense of _familiarity_ , it gives Merlin an idea. It's half-baked, granted, but...

"Come to the New Year's party with me," Merlin says, turning his head to look Arthur in the eyes. "My friends are throwing it—it's why I was out shopping for alcohol—and well, the more the merrier, right?" He doesn't mention just how much he wants to see Arthur again, but judging by the soft smile playing around Arthur's lips, he doesn't have to.

"I'd love to," Arthur says. "But there's something I'd like you to do for me in return."

"Hm?"

"Go out with me. On a proper date. None of this one night stand nonsense." Arthur clears his throat uncomfortably, before continuing, his voice hopeful. "I'd like to get to know you better, preferably over a proper meal in a restaurant."

"I'd like that," Merlin says. He shifts around in Arthur's arms until they're lying chest to chest, their noses only a centimetre apart. "It's strange. We've only just met, but I—"

"Feel like you've known me forever?" Arthur asks, with a small half-smile.

"It's weird, isn't it?" he asks, putting one hand on Arthur's hip and caressing the warm skin with his thumb.

"If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way. Since the moment I saw you at the store, putting your hands on that bottle of horrible wine. I could swear I met you before, but I can't for the life of me remember when." Arthur leans in and presses a quick, chaste kiss to Merlin's lips.

"Mmm..." Merlin hums against Arthur's lips. "It _is_ weird, though."

"Maybe. But I don't mind." Arthur kicks lightly at Merlin's foot. "Does it really matter?"

"I suppose not," Merlin says, closing his eyes. "We should probably try to get some sleep."

He can almost feel Arthur's hesitation. Just as he's about to tell Arthur to spit it out already, Arthur speaks, his voice low and quiet—so quiet that Merlin is barely able to hear him despite being so close to him.

"Will you still be here in the morning?" Arthur asks, prompting Merlin to reopen his eyes. "When I wake up?"

He doesn't like seeing this insecurity on Arthur's face. It feels wrong, somehow. Arthur should be confident, more self-assured. Not insecure. _Never_ insecure.

"'Course I will," Merlin promises. "But I expect a full English breakfast and round two in the shower."

"Wouldn't that technically be considered round three?" Arthur asks, lips forming a mischievous smirk. "You did come twice, after all."

"Fuck off," Merlin says with a laugh. "Go to sleep already."

"Yes, milord," Arthur replies, chuckling. "As milord demands." And with that, he pushes Merlin onto his back and puts his head in the hollow of his shoulder, then throws one of his legs over Merlin's.

"Is this to make sure I can't escape come morning?" Merlin asks, amused.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur grumbles.

And for what is probably the first time in his life, Merlin does as he's told.


End file.
